


Quarantine, But Then Make it Fashion

by leopxld_fitz



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, Modern Day, Post 6x14, Quarantine, general rose sibling chaos, patrick is a good husband, pretty much just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24030682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopxld_fitz/pseuds/leopxld_fitz
Summary: They've been in quarantine for two weeks, and David seems more stressed about Alexis being in New York every day. When Patrick catches David wearing sweatpants around the house, he knows something has to change.
Relationships: Alexis Rose & David Rose, Patrick Brewer & Alexis Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 45
Kudos: 278





	Quarantine, But Then Make it Fashion

David’s clothes were one of the first things that Patrick noticed about him.

Not that David Rose wasn’t memorable enough of a person all on his own. That was probably an understatement. It wasn’t even that Patrick especially _liked_ David’s clothes at first. It was just that they stood out, especially in a small town like Schitt’s Creek. If David wasn’t speaking (rare), or if someone saw him from across the street (more likely), they could likely already get a clue into his dramatic, creative, impactful personality. Even Patrick’s father had remarked on it when he first came out to them. 

_“I like him,” Clint had said, smiling across the diner booth at his son. “I like him a lot.”_

_Patrick sucked in a breath through his teeth, feeling his chest constrict with emotion. “Me, too,” he managed out._

_“I don’t understand his clothes, but -” he continued, giving way to laughter with Marci._

_Patrick huffed out a genuine, somewhat startled laugh, brushing at his nose with his knuckle. “Ah, you will in time.”_

Patrick had already come to understand by that point what he knew better than ever now: the clothes were an extension of David. They weren’t so much a statement as they were just part of his personality. 

Which is why when, by day fifteen of quarantine, David’s wardrobe started to drastically change, Patrick began to get very worried. 

Sure, he had seen his husband in pajamas plenty of times. But even David’s sleep clothes were things like Comme des Garçons shirts and Tom Ford pajama pants. They matched. And, more importantly, they matched _everything else_ in his closet. He put them on an hour before bed, and he took them off after his first cup of coffee. He wasn’t a “lounge around in his pajamas” kind of guy. He was a lounging guy, sure. But there’d be an outfit for it. Some black sweater that said “lounging” in French or something. 

Which is why Patrick had to blink a few times as David got his coffee before he registered what he was wearing. A white t-shirt that he’d slept in and...Patrick’s grey sweatpants. Not too far off the mark color scheme wise. Might have escaped his notice, had it not been 2 PM. Which meant that, while Patrick had been working in the kitchen all morning, David hadn’t gotten dressed past throwing on his husband’s sweats over the boxers that he’d slept in.

Patrick hovered for a moment between thoughts, watching David stir creamer into his cup. They had a teasing repertoire, but this seemed outside of that. Silly as it sounded, he could tell vulnerability in his husband when he saw it, and this was it. His mind reached for a remark about the coffee instead, having already made eye contact with David over the top of his computer. “Hey, how many cups does that make for you today?” 

David blinked owlishly at him, hands on either side of his mug, cup covering his mouth. Eyebrows lifted, he finally said, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.” 

Patrick shrugged, not bothering to hide his smile the way he usually did when trying to lightly harass him. “No reason. Guess I just thought someone with three cups of coffee in them might have enough energy to help their loving, dutiful husband prepare the online orders for the store that they share.”

The cup was lowered away from his mouth, but David’s eyes slid shut as he listened, chin tipping up. “Okay, honestly, I have a headache from hell, and I am very much not up to that right now,” he told him, reopening his eyes. 

The warmth in Patrick’s chest was replaced by worry, pulled away once again from the temptation to tease David due to how he’d been behaving lately. He was married to someone with anxiety - he’d known when the pandemic started that he’d have to keep an eye out for something like this. He just had almost no idea how to fix it now that it was happening. Patrick’s smile slipped for a moment before he tacked back into place. Softer but not quite meeting his eyes. 

Patrick stood and crossed in front of David, going into the fridge and pulling out a Greek yogurt. “It’s probably all the sugar and caffeine,” he pointed out, expression kind as he held it out to him. 

David languidly sipped his coffee, clearly in no rush as he considered the offering. Eventually, he set his mug down on the counter and reluctantly accepted the yogurt, turning towards the counter to snag a spoon. 

“You are _very_ welcome for the yogurt, David. I really hope you enjoy it. I made it myself,” Patrick deadpanned back to him. If only to try to get him to say _something_. 

David paused peeling back the lid of the yogurt to look at him. “Technically, Heather made this,” he replied, voice low in volume and lacking its usual bite. He dropped his gaze to the laptop on the table, clearing his throat as he stirred. “I can -” 

“There’s not that many,” Patrick cut him off, feeling a surge of guilt in his chest. “There’s only ten or so. I can handle it.” A partial lie. There were a lot more than ten, but he could do it by himself. Standing closer to David, he could see how tired he looked. The darkening under his eyes said enough. Patrick knew how much his vitamin C serum cost. If it was failing, something was up. 

David eyed him warily. “Okay,” he finally said, drawing out the word, sounding like he didn’t entirely understand Patrick’s intentions. He eyed his husband. “But I tried, so you don’t get to hold this over me.” 

The corner of Patrick’s mouth tugged up. “Your noble sacrifice is noted and appreciated,” he told him. “Why don’t you go shower? Then we can get lunch after you’re done.” 

David continued to look over Patrick curiously, seemingly searching for something that he was unable to find. 

This was familiar to Patrick from when they first started speaking. He sat down, face open and honest. The suspicion was a side of David that he hadn’t seen in a while, but it was a side he knew how to handle. He didn’t needle him or try to persuade. He just sat there and looked. Not a hardship, if you asked him. 

Finally satisfied that Patrick had no other shoe to drop on him, David shuffled away, coffee still clutched in his palms, socked feet dragging some along the floor. 

The current circumstances hadn’t exactly been easy on anyone, but Patrick knew that was especially true for David. For the most part, Schitt’s Creek was isolated enough that they didn’t really have to worry about themselves, and Patrick’s family were all following quarantine procedures to the letter. So were David’s - they’d all been subjected to Moira’s new-found obsession with decorative masks - but that didn’t stop him from fretting about Alexis in New York. Patrick could see David’s fear. That despite all he’d done to protect her from others, to protect her from herself, this thing that he was powerless against was going to sweep in and harm her. 

Alexis had been smart, of course. She was being safe and only gave David a mildly hard time when he insisted on sending her a large box of things from the store so that he could prevent her from having to go outside. She was lucky enough to be working from home, devoting hours to a premiere slated for August and keeping herself busy. 

It didn’t help that David was a selective extrovert by nature, and now couldn’t see any of his friends. Stevie had been around via text, but it didn’t seem to help as much as their uninterrupted, face-to-face, one-on-one time always did. It wasn’t that Patrick wasn’t enough - it was just that David’s head could hold a lot of worrying, and his heart could hold a lot of love, and there weren’t quite enough comforting hands to outweigh the situation staring them down. 

Back he was first getting serious with David, Patrick and Alexis had developed a text code of sorts. Whenever David was being...David, and they needed someone to distract him, calm him down, or get him out of the house, they’d send the other one the message. Just two words. 

Patrick picked up his phone. 

**_Patrick:_ ** _Check in._

The response was swift. Just a thumbs up. 

Good. At least that’d hopefully settle him enough to get more sleep tonight. He could hear from Alexis herself that she was doing well and that he didn’t have to worry. He still would, but at least this would give Patrick a logic bargaining chip to use later. 

He heard the shower turn on in the other room and Patrick put his phone down, buckling down to get as many shipping labels prepared as he could before David noticed that there were very much not just ten. 

~*~

The thing about the Roses was that you could always tell when one of them was in contact with another - even when it was just over the phone. 

Patrick didn’t have to wonder if Alexis had called or not. He heard it. He heard it starting in their bedroom, and he heard it as it wandered through the living room, and he heard it as it came into the kitchen, blissfully unaware of unassuming Patricks who were still trying to get things done. ‘It,’ in this case, was David, who had showered - Patrick could see his damp hair and smell his mousse, so that was something - but had still not changed into normal clothes. Instead, it seemed he had doubled down, putting on his husband’s ancient, grey, high school theatre t-shirt, Patrick’s baseball cap, and the same sweatpants from before. 

Was it bad that Patrick felt vaguely insulted? Why were _his_ clothes David’s depression clothes? 

He decided he didn’t want to dig into that one, and instead let it go, choosing to believe that his spouse loved him and that they brought him comfort. 

That had to be it. 

...Right? 

He was interrupted from further contemplation by David setting his phone down on the counter, putting Alexis on speaker as he walked back over to the coffee maker. 

_“ - just a shame, you know?”_ Alexis was saying. _“I have a closet full of all these very New York in the spring clothes and no one is seeing them.”_

David’s attention snapped away from the coffee maker to the phone, plucking it up again. Patrick took the opportunity to shut the machine off again and plant a bottle of water in David’s hand instead, giving him a thumbs up. David scowled lightly, but obediently stayed away from the coffee. “You’re not going out though, right?” he asked his phone, voice clipped and higher pitched than it had been. 

Alexis huffed on the other line. _“Duh, David. I’m not twelve. Relax.”_

David looked anything but relaxed.

 _“I just miss getting dressed and going out,”_ Alexis charged ahead. _“I had to post an OOTD yesterday._ ” 

That got David’s attention, blinking in alarm. “Oh my God,” he reacted. “Why?” 

_“I know!”_ Alexis yelped back. _“I just miss...having friends.”_ A pause. And then, _“Also I just have some really great looks for like, being around people.”_

David looked down at his (Patrick’s) clothes, expression morphing into something like shame.

Patrick decided he should definitely be at least mildly offended. 

_“I’m literally just cleaning my apartment in that peach floral Stella McCartney dress.”_

“You’re _cleaning?_ ” David parroted back to her, tendons in his neck tensing with the strain around the word. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Also wait...what McCartney?” 

Alexis’ responding laugh was mocking and sarcastic. _“I’m having a very cute Disney princess moment, thank you,”_ she informed him. _“And what do you mean? The McCartney you got me.”_

David shot his husband a truly baffled look, hand waving as it balanced his phone, seeming as though he expected Patrick to find this every bit as outrageous as he did. 

Patrick shrugged good-naturedly. That was the safest route. David typically read it as a suitable amount of displeasure at whatever was happening. It really usually meant that he actually didn’t know what they were talking about. He knew who Stella McCartney was from years of being with David. He had no opinions on the subject. 

“Okay, I didn’t get you a McCartney,” he told her, his free hand sort of bobbing with each word for emphasis. “I have never gotten you a McCartney.” 

_“Um, yes you did, David,”_ Alexis snapped back. _“How could you not remember? You got it for me for me after I missed my birthday party because I was stuck at the French Polynesian embassy.”_

Patrick gave the phone a somewhat quizzical look, but didn’t ask any questions.

The topic didn’t faze David. “No,” he told her slowly, as if the answer was obvious. “I did not. I got you a McQueen, as in Alexander, and it was a sweater, and it was white. I have never gotten you a McCartney. Of literally any kind.” 

There was shuffling on the other line. _“Ugh. Hang on._ ” Then the line went dead. Less than a breath later, David’s phone was trilling with an incoming FaceTime call. He turned the phone towards Patrick, presenting him with who was calling before spreading his hands. “Why doesn’t she do this to anyone else?”

Patrick shrugged again and held up his phone, giving it a little shake, as if to prove he alone was safe from Alexis’ surprise FaceTime calls. “Android.” 

David rolled his eyes grandly before answering his sister’s call, face pinched. “I literally do not care what you have to show me,” he told her. 

Alexis was holding her phone above her head, getting the full dress in the shot. “Will you just _look,_ David?” she said, voice frustrated. “This is the dress. This is literally the dress I am talking about.” 

“And _I_ am telling you that I have never seen that dress in my life,” David said, eyes wide, heels practically visibly digging into the ground. “That is _basically_ flesh tone. Why would I buy you that?” 

Alexis’ face came back into frame at a normal angle, brushing her hair over her shoulder in annoyance. “Then who did get it for me?” 

David’s face rapidly progressed through several different emotions before he landed on one. “How the fuck would I know? Someone whose taste isn’t as good as mine, clearly.” 

Alexis groaned, narrowing her eyes at her brother. “Okay, _you’re_ one to talk today. You do better. You look like Darren Criss about to assassinate Gianni Versace.” 

David’s mouth dropped open. “ _Fine!_ ” he snapped, picking up his water bottle, plastic crunching under his fingers. “I will do better. I will go do better _right now_.” 

Alexis looked pleased with herself. “Call me back when you do!” 

David left in a whirlwind. 

Patrick decided that, 1. He was definitely offended and, 2. He should put padlocks on his pajama drawer.

~*~

The digs at his choice of loungewear wound up being a small price for Patrick to pay for what resulted from Alexis’ call. The next day when David woke up, he had more spring in his step. A fire fueled by the deep need to prove his sibling wrong that couldn’t have ever been lit by Patrick. 

Never leave a husband to do a sister’s job. 

For a blissful week and a half, things almost felt back to normal in the Rose-Brewer household. David spent his mornings FaceTiming Alexis, giving them both an opportunity to show off their outfits and touch base, and he was usually in good enough spirits after lunch to help Patrick out with store duties. They were getting more online orders than ever before, which was great news for business, but it also meant keeping the normal store hours going from home if they were going to keep up with everything. A concept David didn’t seem to be familiar with, given his penchant for starting after noon.

But Patrick didn’t push. They had their health, they had their business. If getting a late start calmed David’s ever-worrying, ever-contorting mind, then that was fine by him. 

Still, Patrick noticed the difference. David had even started brainstorming ways to use the store to help the town. When he came to Patrick and suggested they sell masks from their fabric scraps - an idea Patrick had suggested two weeks ago - he was so happy about the progress that he’d just said, _“...Yep. Great idea, David. Good job.”_

Patrick played his part in the calls. Saying hi to Alexis when David was talking to her in the same room as him, backing her up when she teased him (the easiest way to get David stirred up), and cracking easy jokes about the _importance_ of the content of their call. In reality, he did think it was important. For both of them. But that wasn’t as much fun to say out loud. He acted annoyed because it was part of the fun. His starring role as the straight man in a three ring circus. 

Then, one day, she didn’t call. David freaked out until Alexis confirmed that she was fine and just didn’t feel like chatting. David accepted that one easily enough and went on with his day. 

The second day, David still got dressed, but he looked unnerved. He kept his phone face up through breakfast, spending most of his time absently chewing, staring at the black screen. 

Patrick reached across the table to cover David’s ringed hand. “Hey,” he prompted softly. “She’s okay.” 

David looked at him, startled, like he hadn’t thought he was being so transparent - or at least didn’t expect to be so thoroughly seen. He opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t go through with it. He flipped his phone back over and laced his fingers through Patrick’s. They got less done. Patrick started to fret again. 

By the fourth day, things were going downhill. Patrick had watched David get dressed slowly, reluctantly, like he was thinking better of it. He moved slowly and quietly, save for his hands, which were clenching and unclenching every second, as if the curling and unfurling of his fingers could steady himself. 

It...wasn’t good timing. They’d gotten inundated with orders the previous day for the new masks, and Patrick was invoicing, printing shipping labels, and preparing packages as quickly as he could. He felt a tug in his gut. A pang of guilt at not being more attentive. He’d tried to be there for David as much as he could, but without Alexis to trade morning barbs with, he was...slowing down progress a bit. 

Patrick was as patient as he could be, listening to David wax poetic about Mariah Carey albums, or talk about his favorite Nora Ephron movies. He was trying to help, but...they were moving at very different paces. 

As soon as David went to the kitchen to get them water, Patrick snatched up his phone. 

**_Patrick:_ ** _Check in._

The reply was slower than last time, but it came in a timely fashion. 

**_Alexis:_ ** _I literally just checked in. Can’t you do it?_

Patrick let out a short, annoyed breath through his nose. 

**_Patrick:_ ** _That was two weeks ago. And I’ve tried._

 ** _Patrick:_** _I can’t believe I’m saying this, but please call your brother and show him your outfit._

 **_Alexis:_ ** _I’m a little busy today._

 ** _Patrick:_** _Just...when you can._

 **_Patrick:_ ** _You can’t tell anyone that I confirmed this, but those calls mean a lot to him. He worries about you._

 **_Patrick:_ ** _Also, you know how hard it is to get anything done with him underfoot. So please call him._

David returned with water and snacks, and Patrick put down his phone. To his credit, David seemed to set aside whatever he was feeling for a bit to power through most of the boxes with him. Patrick could still tell something was on his mind, but they fell into an easy enough chatter, passing time. 

Patrick’s phone didn’t light up again. He started to think Alexis was intentionally blowing David off, something that made the beginnings of anger form at the bottom of his throat. 

Then, with about six boxes left to go, David’s phone began to ring, alerting them to a new FaceTime call. He picked it up quickly, looking at the screen. “It’s Alexis,” he told Patrick. He hesitated. “I can stay and help with these last few -” 

Patrick smiled and shook his head, waving him off. “Nah. I got it. Go chat.” 

David’s smile was warm and loving, leaning over to press a kiss to Patrick’s forehead before leaning back into his spot and hitting accept. 

Oh, so he was going to talk here. 

That was...fine. 

“I’m running a business, what do you want?” David answered, doing his best to look uninterested. 

Alexis laughed, but the sound came out muted. She sniffled. 

David’s eyebrows drifted so far up that they nearly collided with his hairline. “You sound disgusting,” he said brightly, though the shrill note to his voice betrayed his worry. “Why do you sound disgusting?” 

“Fuck off, David,” Alexis griped back. “I’m not sick, I’ve just been like...crying, I don’t know, it’s stupid.” 

Patrick caught David’s eyes and mouthed _Do you want me to leave?_

David hesitated, looking between him and the screen before shaking his head minutely. 

“Okay,” David said after a beat or three, voice at a more suitable pitch. “Why?” 

Alexis blew out a breath, swiping quickly at her under-eyes. “It’s nothing. I just..that big premiere I was working on for August got cancelled. And I devoted a lot of like all these very stressful planning days to it, and it was going to be my biggest client. It didn’t even have anything to do with the virus.” She looked at her cuticles. “And now it just feels like it was all for nothing. And like I moved away from - ... like I moved to New York for no reason.” 

David frowned, regarding his sister, head tilted. “Well,” he started, voice even softer still. “I am...very sorry that that happened to you. And...that sounds like it’s their loss.” He gave her a soft smile as he added, “Sounds like it would have been the premiere of the decade.” 

Alexis smiled tiredly, but it was genuine. 

David shifted, his shoulders coming up to his ears before seemingly summoning the strength to say something else genuine (they’d come a long way, but they were still a work in progress). “There will be...so many other clients.” He pressed his lips together, mouth a line as he thought through something before adding, “I think you are right where you’re supposed to be.”

Her expression was soft. “Thanks, big brother,” Alexis replied gently. 

Tape squelched loudly Patrick tried to start working again, shattering the moment and earning him a look from both of the Rose children.  
  
“Sorry,” he muttered, putting their tape gun back down.

“Um...anyway,” Alexis said, redirecting attention to their conversation. “So, that’s why I haven’t called. I didn’t get dressed. Here are my sweats, though.” She held the camera aloft, grinning widely at it. “They’re designer though, so I think they still count in the competition.” 

David’s eyes were narrowed, but he was biting back a smile. “Uh-huh. And that’s designer according to who, exactly? Urban Outfitters?” 

Reliably, Alexis’ face snapped back into frame, frowning. “Shush, David. You don’t look like you got dressed either, okay?” 

David’s head moved back on his shoulders, giving a little shake. “Go cho -” He cut himself off, swallowing his insult through a tight throat. He redirected quickly, instead saying, “This is Valentino.” 

Most siblings, in the face of a global pandemic with one of them living in an outbreak cluster, would be charitable about the other suddenly not wanting to tell them to die, even as a joke. 

But the Rose siblings were not most siblings. 

A look passed over Alexis’ face, and suddenly she was beaming at him, hands clasped over her heart. 

“ _No -”_ David warned, lifting a finger. 

She ignored him. 

“ _Awww,_ ” she crooned back at him. “ _David, you don’t want me to die, that is so sweet!”_

David blinked at her rapidly, mouth a line that was quickly twisting with disgust. “Dwindling by the second, thanks!” he chirped back at her, eyebrows shooting up and then back down.

Alexis lifted a finger, circling a couple of times before gently tapping it against the camera, looking fond. “Boop.” 

“Don’t,” David protested, even though there was no conviction behind his words. 

“I gotta go,” Alexis told him. “I have a lot of emails to send. Wear something better tomorrow. Be useful to your husband for once and tape a box.” 

Patrick made a very loud, pointed sound with the tape. 

David made a face. “I changed my mind. Both of you can feel free to never speak to me again.” 

Patrick blinked. “Wow, David. Thank you. That...that really means a lot to me.” He reached over and patted his husband’s hand.

“Okay, I hate you both, and I am officially relieving myself of this conversation,” David informed them. His finger flourished as he moved to hit the ‘end call’ button. 

“Wait -” Alexis protested. 

“Oh my God, what?” David’s hand was splayed out by the side of his cheek, looking expectant. 

“I love you,” Alexis replied.

David’s hand lowered, something in his expression hesitantly softening. “I love you, too.” 

Alexis blew a kiss and he ended the call, which Patrick took as a cue that he could get back to work. 

David stayed still.

“Plenty of boxes to be packed if you’re not busy, David,” Patrick told him without looking up. 

He saw David shift out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry, I was just distracted by what a lovely, lovely man I’ve married.”  
  


Patrick looked up to see David staring at him, eyes crinkling with affection, lips pressed together, appraising him. He still managed to shrug it off, dropping his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

David leaned forward, catching Patrick’s chin with his knuckle, encouraging him to look up. When he’d succeeded, he closed the distance between them and planted a kiss on his lips. “Well, thank you,” he murmured. “For whatever it was that you didn’t do.” 

Patrick gazed back at him, a somewhat shy smile coming to his face. “No problem. I excel at doing nothing,” he told him softly. He picked up David’s hand off of his face and placed a kiss to the center of his palm.

David leaned back and continued to stare. 

Patrick cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to kill a moment here, but...seriously, David. Can we get these done? We need to get to the post office before five.” 

David grinned, nodding. “Yes. Yes. Boxes. Yes.”

~*~ 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first fic in a long time (and first on AO3), but I just love this show and these characters so much. You can find me on Tumblr @leopxld_fitz.


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